


Into The Black

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Heavy BDSM, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4839395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They can't trust each other, but who else is left?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Black

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by Xekstrin. All the acts herein are consensual, if a bit bloody.

Cinder was brooding.

There were other words for it maybe, but Neo thought she was far too serious to pout, and fits were for those who lost control. Cinder never lost control, even if she had to grip so tight something snapped, scarred, left behind a burn deep enough to sear bone. The same hands that could twist a car to white-hot slag were the ones wandering over a map pinned to an old, chipped table now, following slender lines of ink. Her shoulders rolled in, narrow and protective, an old habit that emerged whenever fatigue took its toll. It was proof the older woman wasn’t raised in straight-backed chairs, coaxed to instinctive and perfect posture, but learned to scrap and covet, to lash out before someone else took advantage.

She was used to fighting for what she deserved. Neo was familiar with the feeling.

Between the fireplace – makeshift, cobbled together by White Fang hands to stave off the cold that seeped through steel warehouse walls and raw concrete floors – and the faintest golden glow beneath Cinder’s dress, the taste of sulfur settled on the back of Neo’s tongue as she approached, not bothering to try and silence the clicks of her heels. Either Cinder’s indifference was a sign that she was truly distracted or simply didn’t care, and Neo had no intention of insulting her with the attempt. If she was unwelcome, it would be made clear soon enough.

A candle smouldered on the last gasp of its wick next to Cinder’s elbow, flame guttering and unattended. There were plenty of electric lights scattered among their supplies, ready for the taking, but Cinder never used them. She was always careful about how much red Dust came near her skin, able to ignite it with a single spark of power, and Neo often wondered if enough of it would set Cinder ablaze forever, a column of flame that wouldn’t – couldn’t – die.

It was fun to picture, anyway.

When she stepped close enough to see over one lithe shoulder, Cinder’s finger was centered over what used to be Vytal on the map. A scorch mark had obliterated the city from sight, so deep the table was marred beneath it, and the end of an ashen path that started in the heart of Atlas and wove throughout the kingdoms, drawn by the hot edge of Cinder’s nail. She was silent still, but tension tapered up the back of her neck in taut lines, loose black hair pushed to the side and leaving her nape bare and vulnerable.

The height of Cinder’s chair provided a generous advantage; Neo barely had to tilt her head to press a kiss there, above the first notch of the spine. A hiss caught between Cinder’s teeth, and she exhaled, “Neo.”

With the accent put on her name – in less guarded moments, away from others – Neo was curious if Cinder was actually from Mistral instead of just pretending to be when she stalked around Beacon in Haven’s uniform. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question; that would have left room to argue.

She placed the second kiss between the top lines of Cinder’s tattoo, where the heels met, and felt the sigh when it passed through the older woman’s chest. Neo resisted the urge to bite down, suck until she tasted blood. With Cinder’s heart so close, the temptation was always there.

“Emerald and Mercury.” Two fingers spread outward across the map, angled in opposite directions. “Last night they went out to Junior’s club, spouting my name to get access to his private stash. Both came back high out of their minds.”

That explained the commotion around three in the morning. Neo has chalked it up to the beasts fighting amongst themselves. “Did you punish them?”

“Flushing that poison from their systems was enough punishment, for now.” Cinder muttered a curse under her breath. “They say they’re restless, they’re bored, but the truth is they’re just…children.”

A bit of rebellion was understandable, to an extent. Ever since Roman had landed himself in Ironwood’s cell to start feeding them intel, Neo had little to do but oversee weapons shipments, ensuring nothing was stolen or exchanged. The Faunus despised her to a one, but their hate was driven by fear, and made them compliant despite themselves. Watching over a squall of White Fang grunts moving crates was horrifically boring, but there were ways to vent that didn’t involve jeopardizing their plans, much less whispering Cinder’s name to the masses.

“Were you like that at seventeen?” Neo asked, lips moving against her skin.

“Of course not.” Cinder clenched her hand into a fist, knuckles gone sallow. “I was working my fingers raw to ensure the two of them could eat.”

For a moment, all Neo could picture was the flash of bloodied steel, an ache echoing through her oldest scars. She hadn’t been a fan of seventeen either.“Then don’t give them mercy. They’ll learn from it.”

The lesson would have to come later, though, after cutting to the source of Cinder’s tension. A distraction like this wouldn’t do, not in the middle of things. Neo used her tongue to draw a long, wet stripe along the length of the tattoo, framing the ink and imagining she could taste the depths of the lines, drink them down. An open-mouthed kiss followed between the curves of each heel, the hollow heart they made the shape of, and the sound of glass scraping concrete was like music to her ears.

“What are you doing?” Cinder’s tone had shifted to black ice, frigid and deadly. 

She smiled, quirking her mouth so Cinder could feel it, leaving no doubt behind. “Nothing.”

“Tempting me.” The words were just above a whisper, but the heat returned thrice-over, gold igniting under the deep scars of Dust. A breath stretched out between the two of them, taut as a tightrope and just as eager to snap. “You insolent girl.”

There it was. Neo took a step back the second she heard the chair screech against the floor, but Cinder was faster, and a hard shove to the chest sent her sprawling. Someone’s well-worn carpet had been spread across the concrete to muffle noise, but it didn’t do much to break the fall, and only ingrained reflex kept Neo from striking her head against solid surface. Out of the corner of one eye, the fireplace was blazing, close enough that stray sparks had a chance of reaching her, finding something to feed off of, but the soft ring of Cinder’s heels drew Neo’s attention back upward. It was a sound like a shuddering chime, carved glass trembling with the urge to shatter.

“Did I upset you?” Neo asked, meeting those bright eyes straight on.

A sharp kick to one knee prompted her legs to part, the pain sharp but lasting nowhere near long enough. “Mind your tongue.”

“Apologies.” Keeping her eyes from changing colors was difficult when they got like this. Her Aura had always been wild and eager, ready to twist the world into something else. “I won’t do it again, ma’am.”

“Is there anything you  _won’t_  do?” Cinder crooned, tongue twisting the question into mockery. Each step was slow and deliberate, walking a circle until all Neo could focus on was the brass anklet that jingled with the movement, feathers scintillating in the firelight. “If I ordered you to crawl across broken glass for me, would you even argue?”

This was all part of the game; she knew it like the back of her hand. “No.”

“And why not?” The next step was on her chest, Cinder’s heel pressing right below her sternum and hard enough to bruise. Breathing in stung, but the sensation left her giddy, pain casting a silver flash across her vision, beautiful as a falling star.

Neo swallowed a laugh, but the smile still took. “I’ve been through worse.”

“You have, haven’t you?” Cinder almost sounded pleased, but twisted her shoe nonetheless, choking off Neo’s next breath halfway into her lungs. The pressure spread across her chest like a blunt ache, building until both hands clenched into fists, fighting the urge to thrash. Only when she gasped, eyes wide and mouth wet from too many desperate attempts to inhale, that Cinder relented, the click of her heel muffled against the carpet. “On your stomach.”

The column of Neo’s back ached in protest as she obeyed, laying prostrate and hands flat against the floor. Sweat had started to rise from her palms, making the leather lining of her gloves stick, but she had no intention to take them off. That would only encourage Cinder to bruise her knuckles raw, leave both hands useless so she had no choice to rely on her mouth. It happened once or twice before, and while Neo could take pleasure from that particular kind of vulnerability, tonight she had every intention of wrenching out that rigid tension from Cinder’s frame, sucking the poison out and giving back a bit of her own.

Cinder stopped at the far side of the room, shadows obscuring her expression where the firelight licked up her calves, and Neo kept her head low, waiting for an order. This could go one of a hundred ways, depending on the intricacies of the other woman’s mood, but willful disobedience wasn’t how this was played. She gave in, suffered, screamed herself hoarse, and the reward was that perfect high where everything became clean and clear, empty. It settled the restlessness under her skin, darker urges that couldn’t be sated by the light of day. Not without drawing the attention of the police, anyway.

“What are you waiting for?” Cinder asked, voice dripping with carefully calculated displeasure. “Crawl.”

The path wasn’t far – fifteen feet at most – but Neo felt the sword hanging above her head, a warning scratching along the inside of her skull. Nothing happened when she first began to drag herself forward, elbows rasping against the carpet, but with the first push of her knees, a line of heat shot straight down her spine. At first she chalked it up to excitement, but with the next shift of her body, cool air pricked across Neo’s back, the skin bared. Cinder had sliced right through her jacket and the shirt underneath, the telltale sparks dancing on her fingertips. Whether it had been flame alone or a sliver of glass she called forth, Neo couldn’t say, but the cut had been precise, severed at the seams as to be easily mended again.

Her jacket split completely with the next movement, falling loose around both shoulders, but it wasn’t until Cinder severed the collar of her shirt, the point of keen heat like teeth sinking into Neo’s nape, that she fumbled her way from the tangle of fabric. The necklace wound thrice around her throat was closer to a noose now, reminding Neo of its presence whenever the beads dragged against the floor. Cinder wouldn’t rid her of that; she enjoyed a touch of decoration, something to accent every new color drawn up to the skin. Ten feet now, but now the old threads of the carpet were a rough rub against the outside of Neo’s arms, the exposed softness of her belly.

With a fresh canvas at her disposal, Cinder snapped her fingers, and Neo moaned as a white-hot lash swept across her shoulder, stinging deeper than any whip ever could. The scent of iron filled her senses, salty and bitter, and the sluggish trail that trickled down her ribs was unmistakably blood. For every few inches of progress she made, Cinder would strike in turn, turning her back to ribbons with each passing cut. Neo bit back a whimper when another lash sliced across the very first one, old and new pain colliding in a heady cocktail, and her shoulders sagged, head almost touching the floor as she gulped down a quick breath of air.

“Keep going.” Cinder commanded, but it was laced with amusement, sickly sweet. “I won’t drag you like a dog on a leash, darling.”

The term of endearment – however ironic – bid Neo to steady herself, think past the building tide of agony. She crawled the rest of the way without complaint, without acknowledging the cold press of concrete against her breasts once she finally surpassed the carpet, stopping just short of Cinder’s feet. A pop echoed in Neo’s ears when she craned her neck upward, waiting for whatever order would come, but Cinder only smiled, the tight line of her teeth piercing through the half-light of the room.

“The first time we did this, I thought you were faking everything, looking for the right opportunity to slip that little parasol of yours between my ribs.” Tilting up her shoe, the tip of Cinder’s heel angled against the underside of Neo’s chin, keeping her head locked in place. “But you enjoy yourself, don’t you? Truly.”

Neo managed the smallest nod, eyes never breaking from Cinder’s burning stare. It wasn’t trust that made this possible – much less in each other, such an idea was laughable – but a mutual understanding of desire and the need to sate it. Odds were they would have to try and kill each other somewhere down the line, depending on which way this business swung, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a standing arrangement until then. She would make it quick if it came to that; a single thrust to the heart, as much for Cinder’s mercy as her own. Maybe take that pretty gem off the dress too, as a keepsake.

“I think you’ve apologized enough.” The glow faded from under Cinder’s skin, sparks swallowed by darkness, and then her voice softened, an almost imperceptible concession. “Touch me.”

A hum of pleasure slipped from Neo’s throat at being given permission, and she began right where she was, trailing kisses along the swell of Cinder’s ankle. Opaque stockings were a barrier to her tongue, but Neo ensured Cinder felt the path of her lips, gloved hands shifting to cradle the back of both heels. She’d never pull or tug, but it offered enough leverage when pushing up onto both elbows, tongue worshipping the curve of muscle in Cinder’s calf. As soon as Neo reached her knee, she descended again, starting at the other heel and tasting glass, cool as a drink of water against her mouth. Only when she had mapped every inch did Neo rise to her knees, settling back against her own heels to relieve the ache in her thighs from the sustained crawl.

Cinder allowed it, the movement noted with pursed lips, and Neo drew her fingers up the back of the stockings, spreading them wider when her hands slipped beneath the dress’ intricate black hem. Her nails scratched, biting deep over the band of fabric, drawing out a faint moan that sent a shiver down Neo’s spine. Not much noise passed between them unless Cinder was whipped into a frenzy of rage, trading off pain and pleasure until Neo could only howl, scream herself voiceless. Tonight was mild in comparison, but it wasn’t about anger – it was about release.

She had just placed a kiss against the inside of Cinder’s thigh when fingers slid into her hair, parting pink strands from white, and tightened, yanking her head back. Neo opened her mouth to ask what she had done, confusion shattering her focus, when Cinder dropped to her knees and severed the distance between them. Face to face, the golden halo of Cinder’s stare drove a bolt of heat between Neo’s legs, which instinctively tensed together. Slender fingers gripped her jaw, lacquered red nails poised beneath one silver eye, and Neo was ready for the pain to come, ready for anything but the firm request of, “Everywhere.”

Before she could answer, form a single word, Cinder had taken rough custody of each wrist, dragging her hands down to the bottom of the dress. Neo needed no further instruction, drawing the tight sheath of red up over Cinder’s body as soon as she was allowed, and set it on the side away from the fire. She had seen Cinder naked innumerable times – privacy was uncommon luxury when half the walls in the warehouse were just strategically placed curtains – but to be offered the sight without reservation made for a rare gift. Her bra and a slip of black underwear were stripped away without preamble, stockings rolled down and thrown aside to reveal the last few places hidden to Neo’s eyes, and a hunger surged in her chest, just shy of feral.

A sloppy kiss landed on the notch under Cinder’s jaw before Neo kissed down to the pulse beating in her throat, feeling it jump against her teeth when she bit there, reveling in the soft gasp that answered. Her hands slid down Cinder’s back, leather caressing the same places she had explored with her mouth, and Neo sucked the rise of a narrow collarbone, listening for any protest or derision. Rather than an order given, she had to stifle a short cry when hard nails raked down her bloodied back, paying no mind to the damage already there. It _hurt_ , like Cinder had just flayed her to the bone, but in the echo of pain Neo was drawn under by a rebound of bliss, ecstasy so intense the world flashed white.

Her hands and mouth never stayed in one place for long, teasing one hardened nipple with tongue and teeth while her fingers bruised lines across Cinder’s hips, only to scratch a matched set of lines down both thighs and kiss to the base of the older woman’s throat, intending to answer the order to the letter. No inch of flesh would go untouched, and where Cinder wanted her to linger, it was made clear by those damned nails, promising to leave Neo completely undone. It felt like Cinder had sewn puppet strings into her back, fed them through her spine to be tugged and toyed with on any whim, and the sensation coiled in the pit of Neo’s stomach. She couldn’t come from this alone, but it was so seductively close as to be a tease of its own.

Finally she was pushed lower, back onto the ground, and Cinder knelt over her mouth, hesitating just long enough for Neo to make out the slick arousal sticking to the inside of both thighs before she was denied the sight, lips marked and claimed by liquid heat. Her back was ablaze, but fire surrounded Neo completely, stealing the oxygen from her lungs as she licked and sucked, parting Cinder’s folds so she could have access to the sensitive swell of her clit. She sealed her lips around it, letting Cinder fill her mouth before Neo offered light flicks of her tongue, building the pace until hearing a moan loud enough to carry over Cinder’s knees pressing in on either side of her skull.

A hard jerk of Cinder’s hips almost made Neo choke, but she drew in a ragged breath just in time to ease the painful tension in her throat, tongue working lower in broad stripes. She found Cinder’s entrance and drank from the source, delving inside for seconds at a time until Cinder’s taste was smeared across her chin, the only thing she could taste and breathe in. Her hands found purchase on the older woman’s hips and outlined the bruises left there, flush with blue, gripping even tighter when Cinder shuddered above her, back arching as fingers tangled in her hair again, pulling forward in a wordless order for more. Neo was relentless, ignoring the twinge in her jaw when she put the flat of her tongue directly against Cinder’s clit, the next grind forward twisting sweet friction into release.

Cinder bowed forward as she came, shaking from head to toe with eyes squeezed shut, and Neo could swear she heard the quiver of glass at the very end of it, like something was about to explode and send shrapnel under her skin. Breathless and flushed, the gold in her eyes was somehow brighter – polished, renewed – when Cinder opened them again, and Neo smiled as she laid her head back against the floor, noting the hard knot in Cinder’s throat when the movement was seen. Perhaps she was being far too pleased with herself, but rather than deny the reaction, Cinder simply followed it up with a sneer, gripping Neo’s hair right at the base and forcing her back where she was before.

“Again.” Honey was bitter compared to that single word, infused with an arrogance Neo might have called affection, were either of them capable of such a thing. “I’m not finished with you, Neo.”

She had barely gotten a chance to catch her breath, but obeyed nonetheless, skirting Cinder’s folds with the tip of her tongue. There was a hiss of pleasure in turn, sensitive nerves reignited, and Neo tried to close her eyes for the sake of focus, only to be stopped by a hard tug. A whine caught in Neo’s throat, fighting the growing ache in her jaw as she fell into a rhythm again, finding Cinder even more wet than before. For a moment she could swear the fingers gripping her hair grew hotter, and Neo swallowed a laugh, realizing that her choices were between drowning and being burned alive; which one was better, she couldn’t say.

At least Cinder was merciful enough to keep moving her hips, providing a bit more friction to help sustain her mouth, but with every movement, Neo’s back scraped the floor, threatening to derail her completely. She wanted, wanted,  _wanted_ , the world dwindling to a single task, bidding her lips and tongue to continue their pleasure despite the screaming instinct to stop. This time the muted range of Cinder’s moans were a touch louder, pushed higher in pitch, worked up into a throaty gasp when Neo returned to worshipping her clit, daring right against the lines of just right and too much to stand.

The second orgasm almost caught Neo off-guard, hands seizing Cinder’s hips when they jerked forward, control shredded to singular threads for seconds stretched out to minutes by pulses of pleasure. Her tongue eased into slower strokes, drawing out touch and taste in between ragged breaths. Both of them were broken down to that simple act, inhale and exhale, before being grounded again. Neo could only imagine what sounds had echoed off corrugated steel, carried elsewhere, but there was no one in the warehouse who would voice a complaint out loud, if they even cared about what was happening.

“Enough.” Cinder’s fingers relaxed, stroking the strands she’d mussed into their sharp divides of color again. “That’s enough.”

When her hips rose, Neo didn’t move, starting up into the absent darkness of the ceiling. Somewhere in that last moment the switch had flipped, leaving her body light and disconnected, pain diffused to a haze that wrapped around her like an embrace. She made a small sound in the back of her throat when Cinder turned her onto her side, but this time the sparks of Aura that jumped from warm fingertips were white, untouched by the crimson Dust embedded deep into skin, and meant to heal. Every pass of Cinder’s hands sealed another cut, assuaged the deepest bruises into a mild irritated pink. Neo could have done it herself with time, but it was only polite, considering all of the damage done.

The fever had broken, been scourged away now that Cinder’s expression was steady again, without doubt or signs of a trembling foundation. Neo sighed, content to drift in her own sphere until one hand draped over her hips, seeking out the buckle of her belt. Propped up on one arm, Cinder looked her in the eyes, one brow raised curiously.

“Are you finished?” She asked.

A few languid blinks later, Neo found the will to answer. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

Most of the time she preferred the distance of subspace, with orgasm as a bonus only as long as it wasn’t too much trouble to obtain. Relying on her own touch was far easier than walking someone else through the proper method, especially when she felt more liquid and ethereal than human. Cinder relented without a word, laying back down so her body was flush with Neo’s back, a convenient shield from the blazing flames still dancing around the fireplace. She hadn’t intended to sleep here – there was something resembling a bed on the other side of the warehouse, and she’d stolen Roman’s extra pillow until he came back – but standing seemed like a terrible trial at the moment.

By the time the world found its edges again, Neo assumed Cinder had slipped the bounds of consciousness, but when she tried to sit up, the arm tucked against her ribs tightened. “Do you think I’m too strict with them?”

She needed a moment to connect the question to the proper names, what Cinder was truly asking. “Mercury and Emerald will come around. Everyone else has, haven’t they?”

“Not you.” Cinder countered after a strained span of silence.

Well, that was always a given. “You don’t need me to be loyal, Cinder. You just need me to listen.”

“I suppose that’s true.” A low laugh rumbled through Cinder’s chest, vibrated against her spine. “Rest. I’ll fix your clothes in the morning.”

Neo closed her eyes, starting to count the proper number of breaths. At twenty, fingers relaxed against her skin. Just past fifty, Cinder’s head went limp against the floor, and somewhere around one hundred, the beat of her heart fell into the trap of sleep’s sedation. Rather than trying to slip free again, Neo hooked her leg around Cinder’s ankle, locking them together before that empty void took her under too.


End file.
